You know,
there are people who stand
on the corners of their own lives,
watching themselves
like strangers at a bus stop,
waiting for someone else
to tell them when to board.
Don't be that person.
Don't make your joy
small enough to fit
in other people's pockets.
Don't whisper your dreams
when you were born to sing them
from the rooftops
of your magnificent soul.
I'm talking to you,
yes you,
with your heart wrapped tight
like a present
you're afraid to give.
Unwrap it.
Unwrap it now.
Don't you dare
make yourself comfortable
in the shallow end
of your own life.
The deep waters are calling
and you,
you beautiful, breathing miracle,
you were made to swim
in the vast oceans
of possibility.
Don't let your eyelids
grow heavy with the weight
of other people's expectations.
Don't seal your lips
when the world needs
to hear your particular song—
the one only you can sing,
the one that's been waiting
inside your chest
like a bird ready to fly.
You think you don't have time?
Time is what you make it,
and you,
you have been making excuses
when you could have been making magic.
Rise up.
Rise up, I say.
Rise up from the ashes
of your careful living.
Rise up from the grave
of your quiet desperation.
Dance in the middle of Monday morning.
Laugh so loud
the neighbors remember
what joy sounds like.
Love so hard
it changes the weather.
Dream so big
the sky has to move over
to make room.
Kiss the rain.
Argue with the wind.
Make friends with your shadow
and enemies with your fear.
Tell the truth,
even when your voice shakes.
Especially when your voice shakes.
Speak your name
like it's a prayer,
like it's a promise,
like it's the first word
God ever spoke.
Because here's what I know:
You can spend your whole life
being careful,
being quiet,
being small,
and still,
still,
the world will hurt you sometimes.
So why not be magnificent
while you're here?
Why not take up space
like you were born to take up space?
Why not love like loving
is the only thing that matters?
But if you choose—
and it is a choice,
always a choice—
if you choose to make yourself small,
to live like you're apologizing
for taking up oxygen,
to love with one foot
always pointed toward the door,
if you choose to be
the person who watches life
instead of living it,
who whispers when you could roar,
who hides when you could shine,
then don't expect me
to dim my light
to match your darkness.
Don't expect me
to walk slowly
because you refuse to run.
Don't expect me
to whisper my dreams
because you won't voice yours.
I am not here
to make myself smaller
so you can feel bigger.
I am not here
to apologize
for the fire in my belly,
the thunder in my voice,
the lightning in my step.
I choose to be
phenomenally,
outrageously,
unapologetically
alive.
I choose to love
like loving is breathing,
like loving is the only prayer
I know how to pray.
I choose to dream
in technicolor,
to hope in surround sound,
to live in three dimensions
when the world tries to flatten me
into two.
So come with me,
if you're ready to be brave.
Come with me
if you're ready to be seen,
to be heard,
to be gloriously,
messily,
beautifully
human.
Come with me
if you're ready to rise.
But if you choose to stay small,
if you choose to stay quiet,
if you choose to stay hidden,
then stay.
But know this:
I will not dim my light
for your comfort.
I will not shrink my dreams
for your fear.
I will not apologize
for being everything
I was born to be.
I am rising.
I am singing.
I am loving.
I am living.
And phenomenal woman,
phenomenal man,
phenomenal soul—
you can rise too,
if you choose.
The choice,
always,
is yours.